Once
by MissMoony7575
Summary: Tamara Knight once knew Yassen Gregorovich. She once worked together with him. Maybe she even once loved him. TKxYG.
1. First Meeting

Yassen looked to the horizon. Tomorrow he would graduate, tomorrow he would be a fully-fledged member of Scorpia, tomorrow he would be out of Malagosto and would be sent on his first mission.

The young Russian man did not smile as a feeling of content settled over him. He could finally start his dream career.

'I want you to go undercover for us, Yassen,' said Julia Rothman.

Yassen could hardly conceal a sigh, but did not argue with Mrs Rothman. It was a bad idea for anyone to do, even someone who would one day become one of the best assassins in the world. Yassen did not like undercover work. His specialty was killing without question, not pretending.

Yassen remained silent as an indication for Mrs Rothman to continue.

'We have a client that wants to put the CIA out of business. He is offering a lot of money. I do not know what grudge he has against them, but it is better this way; we will not get involved in their personal feud. He is developing a chemical that will be able to kill all the people in a single room - and hopes to plant it in the headquarters of the CIA. However, the CIA are looking into his past and monitoring him - he has received word from somewhere that they are sending an agent in. He wants us to send one of our own to make sure the CIA agent does not discover anything. I've chosen you, Yassen,' said Mrs Rothman.

'I'm honoured,' he replied.

'CIA already knows of you - you're a Russian MI6 agent - I found someone similar to you that worked for the MI6 - he is disposed of so you can take up his mantle. You've recently moved to America and now want to work for the CIA. One of our own already planted in the CIA will make sure that you get the mission. All that you have to do is make sure that your partner does not find out anything about the upcoming scheme our client is planning. It is vital that she does not die - otherwise the CIA will know something is up. Make sure also that she trusts you,' said Mrs Rothman.

'People do not naturally trust me,' said Yassen.

'I know, I know,' she said. 'I'll give you a little advice - act caring. Pretend to be her friend. Be casual. Indulge her a bit. Even pretend to love her, if you like,' said Mrs Rothman.

'I understand,' said Yassen.

'Good. Now you're such a top-ranking student that I'm sure you'll succeed,' she said, patting him on the shoulder and walking away. Somebody who didn't know Mrs Rothman would assume that was a compliment - but in fact it was a warning. She was really saying - 'if you fail, you're dead.'

Yassen did not want to die.

x.x.x

Tamara Knight was not an ordinary 19 year old. Fresh out of school, leaving with a relatively good mark, one would wonder why she wasn't in university. She lived by herself in a small flat in Boston; the rest of her family had moved to Canada a few years ago, leaving her in Boston to finish her schooling. As a school student, she had also been training with the CIA. When she had first turned 19 she had been sent on her first mission. Now, nearing 20, she had been on quite a few missions.

Tamara picked up her ringing mobile phone. It was not her ordinary phone that was ringing - it was one which only one person knew the number of.

'Yes, Joe?' she asked.

'I have a mission for you,' said the voice of the man called Joe.

'You want me at headquarters?' asked Tamara.

'Yes. Immediately,' said Joe, hanging up. Tamara sighed.

She changed and quickly grabbed her handbag before heading out. Her handbag did not carry items ordinary women had; or at least extraordinary ordinary objects. The lipstick she carried was really a stick of dynamite that could be set off by twisting the lid 360 degrees and pulling the cap off quickly. The PDA she carried was a special device with access to all CIA contacts, anywhere in the world, that could also detect radio, infrared, electromagnetic and any other kind of wave you could think of. Her iPod was an effective eavesdropping device and also an explosive. The pen wrote in invisible ink that could only be revealed under a chemical specifically designed for the CIA.

'What is it this time?' asked Tamara.

'There's a case I would like you to look into,' said Joe, placing his hands onto the table. 'There is a man called Mr Stevenson that runs a company called Stevenson Pharmaceuticals. The company is known to be a pioneer in medicine and also highly recognised. However, we suspect that there is more behind the professional façade. I would like you to go to Sydney, where the company is based, to investigate. I've created fake identities for you and your partner to use - you're two scientists that are a couple, applying for jobs in the industry. I would like you to watch their progress and report any abnormalities,' said Joe. Tamara nodded.

'You partner is Dimitri Ivanovitch,' said Joe. A handsome young man of 22 or so years of age entered. He had light blonde hair, closely cut, pale blue eyes, and pale skin. He was around 185 cm tall, with broad shoulders and a muscular body.

'Dimitri, this is Tamara,' said Joe.

'It is a pleasure to meet you,' said Yassen, shaking Tamara's hand.

'Nice to meet you too,' said Tamara.

'You understand what you must do?' asked Joe.

Yassen and Tamara nodded.

'Your flight leaves at 6 am tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep and make sure you are here at 3 am for a final briefing before going to the airport. We have provided fake passports and identities for you; you are two scientists that are a couple, simply because it is less suspicious than to unrelated scientists travelling and living together. Further details are in these files,' said Joe, sliding them across the table. 'Good luck.'

'Thank you,' said Tamara, leaving. Yassen left soon after.


	2. A Couple

Yassen met Tamara outside headquarters. She was wrapped up in woollen winter clothing, her yawn creating mist in the cold winter air. He wore a simple woollen jacket, and seemed completely unperturbed by the cold. Though, he was hardly ever perturbed by anything. They were early. The sun had not risen yet, and the only light came from the yellow streetlights. Any spy knew that being early was better than being on time or late. It provided more time for everything, such as scanning the area, setting up traps, or whatever else you would need to do on a mission. 'You're early too?' asked Tamara, yawning again and raising a lazy hand to her mouth. Yassen simply nodded. He was already fully awake, as he always was - he did not find that he needed much time to sleep; 3 or 4 hours was usually enough for him. The night was too precious to spend sleeping.

There was an awkward silence for a minute or so, where Yassen simply looked around and Tamara tried to think of words to say to her new partner. His cold eyes and emotionless face daunted her and she didn't dare say anything more after his rather cold remark, or rather, lack of remark, given before.Thankfully, Joe came before the situation became really awkward. 'Come in,' he said, opening the door. 'You should get into the routine of coming early,' said Tamara, walking inside. Yassen followed her in.'Routine kills,' said Joe simply, patting her on the back. 'Oh, yeah,' remembered Tamara, climbing the stairs to Joe's office.Joe opened the plain door to his office, leading to an equally plain office, with grey walls, a grey desk, a grey chair and nothing but papers and filing cabinets - grey of course.'Sit down,' he said, motioning to the chairs. Tamara and Yassen took their seats next to each other while Joe sat at the other end of the table.'I have arranged job interviews for you two - try your hardest to look non-suspicious and to get the job,' said Joe, his eyes boring into those of Tamara's and Yassen's. 'I've created an impressive resumes for you; it should be enough to get you into the company by itself. Monitor all activities and look for anything unusual. If anything unusual happens, call us immediately,' he said, pounding his fist on the table.  
'We have reason to believe that a crime will be happening soon. I've rented an apartment for you two. Here's the address - it's right by the harbour. If you find nothing unusual by February, call us and we will arrange a flight home for you,' said Joe. 'I wish you the best of luck.'

'Thanks,' said Tamara. 'I want you to call me at the end of every day,' he said. 'Update me on what's happening and tell me about any advances.''Alright,' said Tamara. Yassen was silent.'Go on,' said Joe, 'you don't want to miss your flight,' he said, with a wave of his hand. 'Bye,' said Tamara, not sure whether Joe would reply.He didn't, instead turning to one of the numerous files on his table.Tamara sighed, leaving the room.

'Guess we'll have to start acting like a couple now,' said Tamara, to Yassen.He nodded, and took her hand in his. Tamara was surprised that he actually responded to her, this time. She smiled at him, but he didn't return it. Not that she expected much in the first place anyway.They hailed a taxi on the street, and began their journey.Yassen looked out the window; his mind seemed miles away. Tamara opened her mouth to try and make conversation, and then thought the better of it, knowing that her partner was not a great conversationist. Instead she tried to remember all the information in the file. They passed through the deserted streets of Boston, blackness all around.

The taxi stopped and they were at the airport. Yassen paid the driver and proceeded to unload the bags. He took the two heavy ones, leaving Tamara with only a small backpack. 'I'll take one,' said Tamara, reaching for one of the bags.'It's alright,' said Yassen. He seemed completely untroubled by the large backpack and suitcase he was carrying. They made their way to the counter where they had to check in for their flight. They were early, and so there were only a few people there and they did not have to wait long to be served.'Good morning sir, ma'am,' said the woman at the counter.'Morning,' said Tamara, happily. Yassen didn't answer. He passed the boarding passes to the woman; she seemed rather disturbed by Yassen's lack of speech.

Maybe he's a mute, the woman thought to herself.Yassen stared at the woman as she checked the passes. She could feel his gaze boring through her. She worked a little faster. 'Is there a problem?' asked Yassen. The woman jerked in slight fear of the man at the counter.'No sir,' she said, lifting her head slowly. She passed the boarding passes back to Yassen.

Tamara realised that though her partner had a silent façade and didn't talk a lot, there was something about him that demanded attention. He radiated power and confidence, and people rushed to serve him, in awe, or even fear. There was something in his sentences that stopped people from arguing with him. He seemed like the kind of person someone could not stop looking at if they saw him even once, the kind of person that seemed to take up the space of the whole room. Even Tamara was thinking about him, oblivious to the other people at the airport.By the time Tamara snapped back to reality, they had checked in and were ready to proceed to customs and immigration. Now that Yassen had his hands free, he held one of Tamara's in his own once more. Tamara smiled at him again.

Yassen made an attempt to smile genuinely back.They soon passed customs and immigration and sat down at the gate. Yassen was silent once more; looking out the window in thought.'Something troubling you?' Tamara asked.Yassen snapped back to reality.'No,' he replied. Tamara looked sceptical, but didn't say any more.They sat in silence, each one enveloped in their own thoughts.Tamara watched the area around her for any disturbances. Children followed their parents around the airport, playing with McDonalds Happy Meal toys or fighting with each other. Half-dead teenagers trailed after their parents, iPod earphones in their ears and dead looks on their faces. Couples like those Yassen and Tamara were pretending to be walked hand in hand, kissing and hugging each other every few seconds. Watching this, Tamara moved closer to Yassen and hugged him.

You never know where or when people will be watching you. Any agent knew they should always be on their guard. He seemed slightly shocked at first, but then returned the hug, unemotionally, as he always was. 'Are you excited, honey?' she asked.

Yassen seemed not quite sure how to reply for a few moments.

'Very much so,' he said. Not exactly the most lovey-dovey of sentences, but good enough for anyone who would be watching.

There was an announcement from the speakers above.

'Passengers on flight 6707, please start boarding.'

Tamara and Yassen hopped up, taking their tickets out of their bags.'Just the two?' asked the girl at the desk.

'Yes,' said Yassen. He was standing with his arm around Tamara's waist, and her own on his shoulder.The girl nodded and let them pass through.


	3. Ballet

They sat next to each other as any couple would do. The typical chaos before the plane took off ensued - people pushed past others to store their baggage in the overhead locker, babies cried as if in deep pain, anxious mothers tried to control their kids, and flight attendants strode up and down the already crowded corridor.

Tamara and Yassen tried to ignore the chaos around them, each putting a set of headphones over their ears. Tamara plugged hers into her iPod and checked for any disturbances. The coast was clear.

As the plane started to take off, Yassen's hand snaked its way up to Tamara's own, clasping it tightly. She nodded to him; he was acting as her partner very well.

Tamara fell asleep within the first hour, her head lolling from side to side, eventually finding a comfortable spot on Yassen's shoulder. He did not push her away.

When they arrived, the first thing Tamara noticed was that it was _hot_. She had heard that Australia was a hot country, but she had never actually experienced real heat before as she'd never been to a hot country before. People took off their jackets and rolled up their sleeves, fanning themselves with their passports.

'It's hot, isn't it?' asked Tamara.

'Overwhelmingly so,' said Yassen.

They hailed a cab and reached the apartment not long after. It was a stylish apartment, but it was also very small. It had one bedroom and a small area that was the living room, dining room and the kitchen. It had views of the harbour and was in a very central location.

'The company is closed for the next week,' said Yassen, 'so we cannot do much more until then. What do you propose we do?' he asked.

'I've done a background check. Nothing unusual. I guess we have the next week to ourselves, then,' she said.

Yassen nodded.

'There is a performance of Swan Lake in the Opera House at the moment,' said Yassen, flicking through the tourist vouchers they had picked up at the airport.

'You're a fan of ballet?' she asked.

'In a way. I'm a ballet dancer,' he said.

'Oh! That's very interesting,' said Tamara. Yassen nodded.

'Do you wish to go and see it?' he asked.

'Why not,' said Tamara, shrugging.

'Good,' said Yassen. 'There is a performance tomorrow. I shall make bookings,' he said, picking up the phone. Tamara flopped down onto the bed.

'The city lights are beautiful, aren't they?' commented Tamara, looking at the lights of all the office buildings and the Sydney Harbour Bridge flickering in the darkness. Yassen nodded.

She lay on the bed for a few minutes, while Yassen called, and then got up and changed into her pyjamas and took her hair out. She slipped under the covers and yawned.

'Night,' she said, to Yassen.

'Goodnight,' he said, turning off the bedroom light and leaving her in peace. Tamara smiled and fell asleep.


	4. Sydney

Well, guys, sorry for the long wait, but I had a really bad case of writer's block! Here's the new chapter; hope you like it!

-Lauren

x.x.x

The sunlight filtered into the bedroom, and Tamara felt her mind slip back into consciousness as the warmth of the rays tickled her face. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

Yassen was already awake, doing weights. As soon as she awoke, Yassen sensed it, and turned around to face her.

'Good morning,' he said politely.

'Morning,' she replied, trying to hide her blush. Yassen wasn't wearing a shirt.

There was an awkward moment – neither of the two knew what to say next. Yassen almost went back to his weights, but Tamara decided to break the silence.

'Why did Joe send us here so early anyway?' asked Tamara, flopping back down on the bed, too tired to bring herself to stand up.

'I suppose he wants it to look natural, and for us to get some background information,' stated Yassen, pulling on a loose-fitting polo shirt and a pair of jeans. Tamara respectfully turned away as he changed. 'Plus we only have a few days more.'

'It's a long time if we've got nothing to do,' said Tamara.

'We're going to the ballet tonight,' said Yassen, sitting down in the hotel chair and crossing his arms.

'Oh yeah!' said Tamara, who'd forgotten all about the ballet. 'What time is it?'

'7 o' clock,' answered Yassen. 'You should get up now.'

Tamara was tempted to be immature and say something like 'but the ballet's not until 7!' but she didn't want to be seen as immature in front of her partner. Plus there was something about Yassen that stopped you from arguing with him.

She pulled herself out of bed and stood up, stretching and yawning.

'What are we going to do today then?' she asked, stifling a yawn.

'I was thinking about seeing the sights of Sydney,' said Yassen. He'd come up with the idea last night – it would be a good time to try to gain her trust; people were more trusting when they were happy.

'That's a good idea,' said Tamara. 'Don't you think it's a beautiful city?' she said, looking out to the harbour. Yassen looked out and turned back to her, not answering. Cities were not beautiful in his eyes. Nothing was, for that matter. Or at least not yet.

'You should get changed and ready,' he said, glancing at his watch. Tamara was tempted to roll her eyes, but Yassen had a point. Plus she didn't want to anger him, at least not yet.

'Yeah, ok,' she said, taking some clothes out of her bag and heading to the bathroom. Within 10 minutes she was changed and ready to leave.

'So, the sights of Sydney, huh? This will be fun,' said Tamara, smiling. She loved sightseeing, but she hardly had enough time when she was on missions. Yassen did not share her enthusiasm, however – he was staring out the window, deep in thought.

'Yes. What do you want to see first?' he asked, turning to her.

'The Harbour Bridge,' said Tamara, smiling. She was excited. Yassen liked the fact that Tamara was happy – people are naturally more trusting and more easily influenced when they are happy.

They walked down to the harbour, which was only a short distance away from the apartment. There was a sense of calm and tranquillity around the area, as slow moving ships forged their way through the harbour. Seagulls picked up food scraps greedily, children chased them off, people strolled through the area, not a single one looking sad or melancholy.

They sat at a small café where they had a clear view of the harbour, the bridge and the opera house. Tamara was taken by the city's beauty, but Yassen couldn't care less – he had many other things to think about.

'Do you want to climb the bridge?' Yassen asked her.

Tamara smiled. 'Why not?'

Half an hour later, Yassen found himself all geared up to climb the bridge. Of course, with his skills, he could climb the bridge safely using only a single rope, but most of the people that were joining them weren't spies, and were definitely not assassins pretending to be spies.

'Don't be scared. There's absolutely no way you can fall,' the instructor told the group. Tamara squeezed Yassen's hand, and gave him an amused smile.

'Who wants to volunteer to be first?' asked the instructor.

The group was silent.

'We'll go first,' volunteered Tamara.

'Excellent,' said the instructor.

As Tamara and Yassen climbed the bridge, they saw that there was no way they could fall off – even if they wanted to. Numerous ropes were tied securely to their waist and to the bridge, and each of the group was tied to each other in one long human chain. Tamara resisted the urge to laugh at the safety of it all when her normal life was fraught with danger.

When they reached the top, Tamara paused to look at the harbour. It truly was beautiful. The sunlight's reflection was dancing on the harbour's waters, like silver mercury mixed with the water. The ships looked tiny from the top of the bridge, and the people even tinier. The Opera House seemed to grow out of the ground like a peculiar white plant, its sails pure white in the sunlight. The wind whipped through her hair, and she felt like she was queen of the world.

Yassen was right behind her, and he held her hand. She turned around and smiled at him.

'I want to live here,' she whispered to him. Yassen was amused. Women were so easily influenced. Tamara had only spent a day in the city, and she already wanted to live here. Yassen thought he would have to take much more time to make any kind of important decision, but little did he know he'd subconsciously made a decision that he loved the city as well.

x.x.x

For the next few hours, they wandered around the city, going almost everywhere. They'd been to Sydney Aquarium, which was in an ironic spot – right by the harbour, where similar marine life lived freely while their counterparts in the aquarium were sealed in.

They had then took a tour of the Opera House, where they would watch the ballet that night. It really was a marvel of engineering, and cutting-edge design. Tamara was looking forward to the performance that night.

They had wandered around the shopping centres briefly, but neither of them found anything of interest to them. Guns were not readily available in Australia, much to their disappointment.

'What do you want to do next?' asked Yassen.

Tamara considered. They'd strolled around the whole of Sydney city, and now, she just wanted to relax. She was ashamed of finding walking around tiring, but somehow, it was. Without the adrenaline danger provided her with, she found she was quite easily tired.

They boarded the ferry and headed to the front of the deck.

'The harbour's so pretty,' said Tamara.

Yassen nodded.

'Just like you,' he said, making another failed attempt to smile.

'Aw, thanks honey,' she replied, smiling perfectly back at him.

The ferry started its engine and with a shudder, it started to move.

Tamara couldn't help but smile. The wind whipped through her hair, hitting her face with a pleasant cold burst.

Tamara ran over to the edge of the ferry, indicating for Yassen to follow her. She leaned over and held her arm out. The spray of the water just tickled the tips of her fingers. Yassen put an arm on her shoulder to ensure that she didn't fall in.

'Be careful,' he warned.

'I'm fine, sweetie,' she said. 'Don't worry.'

Tamara stood back up and looked around. They were passing right under the Sydney Harbour Bridge now; she could hear the rumble of traffic above her.

The sun on her skin felt good. For once in a long time, Tamara felt alive. In Boston, everything was so cold. Clouds forever dominated the sky and there was always a cool wind waiting to make you shiver. However, in Sydney, there was not a cloud in sight and the sun was shining brighter than she'd ever seen it before.

On impulse, and maybe because of the sudden rush of happiness, she hugged Yassen and kissed him on the cheek.

'Thanks for the ferry ride,' she whispered to him.

'You're welcome,' he replied. Yassen felt his heart flutter, and was surprised. It was a CIA agent. Yassen never fell in love. Yassen didn't have emotions.

Or at least that's what he'd been telling himself for the last 21 years.


	5. Guilty

Hello! I'm back :). Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for reviewing!

-Lauren

x.x.x

Tamara felt disappointed when the ferry came to their destination - right where they started.

She got off the boat with Yassen, holding his hand.

'We should go back and get ready,' he said.

'True,' she said.

They walked back up to the apartment, hand in hand.

As soon as they entered and closed the door, Tamara pulled her hand away. She found that she was rather disappointed at this, though she'd never admit it.

'I'll take the bedroom,' she said. 'You can have the bathroom.'

She took the dress and accessories and headed to the bedroom, closing the door.

Tamara slid into the dress, smiling. She loved the feeling of feeling beautiful.

She put on the necklace and earrings, doing a quick twirl in the mirror. Expertly she put on some make up - a light layer of silver eye shadow and light pink lipstick.

She swept her hair up into a bun, secured it and sprayed a small amount of hairspray to make sure it held.

She opened the door, to find Yassen waiting.

He smelt of cologne and wore a black suit with matching trousers, and a white shirt without a tie.

'You look beautiful,' he said to Tamara.

'You too,' she replied, twirling her hair in her fingers. She wasn't mature enough yet to know how to accept compliments properly. 'I mean, um, you don't look beautiful, you look –' She stumbled on her words.

'Shall we go?' he asked, saving her from having to say a full sentence in such a flustered mood.

Tamara nodded. Yassen held his arm out - Tamara linked her own in his and they left.

'Shall we have dinner first?' asked Yassen. Tamara nodded.

They entered a chic restaurant by the harbour side, and sat down at a small two seater table. There was a candle in the middle of the table; Yassen and Tamara could see the reflected candlelight flickering in the other's face.

'What would you like?' he asked.

Tamara scanned the menu.

'You order for me, sweetie,' she said.

Yassen made another attempt at smiling.

He lifted a lazy hand in the air to get the attention of a waiter. One came to the table.

'Would you like to order, sir?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Yassen. 'One Penne Bosciaola, one Linguine Marinara, and one bottle of Moet,' he said.

The waiter scribbled down his order on his notepad and left with a bow.

'What do you think of Sydney, then?' Tamara asked Yassen.

'It is a beautiful city,' he commented.

Tamara wanted to ask him about his past, what he used to do, get to know him more, but she knew she couldn't do it in public. It was pretty obvious that the conversation would not go anywhere while they were acting as someone else, so she didn't bother talking further.

Soon enough the food and champagne came. Yassen uncorked it and poured some in her glass.

'Cheers,' she said, holding her glass up. 'To us,' she said, the obvious thing that a couple would toast to.

'To us,' agreed Yassen, knocking his cup against hers. They each took a sip before putting it back down on the table and starting to eat.

Tamara watched him eat. He did not eat as she did; he paused after each mouthful, as if taking in all the flavours. From what she could see, he thoroughly enjoyed good food. Tamara, on the other hand, ate quickly as she always had done, not really taking in the flavours.

As expected, Yassen paid for the meal. They left the restaurant and proceeded to the Opera House.

With confidence, Yassen held their tickets up in a cavalier attitude as they were shown to their seats. Tamara was shocked to see that they had been given very good seats - right in the middle and quite close to the front. She didn't want to think about how much they would have cost.

She reached up to hold his hand, looking at him and smiling. He did try to smile back.

'You're getting better,' she teased.

He didn't have time to reply - the ballet had started.

The orchestra started to play, and ballet dancers filtered onto the stage. The first act featured the Prince Siegfried, who would fall in love with the beautiful Odette, who turns into a swan. Yassen almost let himself smile – he had played Prince Siegfried in a production, and remembered when he danced the same moves. In his opinion, the dancer who was playing Siegfried now was exaggerating his character too much – he sighed and danced like showing sadness and distress was more important than feeling it. Nowadays, Yassen neither showed nor felt emotions, but still thought that the performance was a bit fake.

'So have you ever danced this ballet?' asked Tamara, trying to make conversation.

'Once,' answered Yassen. 'I was Prince Siegfried.' Yassen was surprised. This was the first time he'd talked of his life before his parents' death to anyone. And he hadn't told an old friend (because he had none) or an ally, but an enemy CIA agent. Though, as Tamara sat there smiling gently at him and looking beautiful, she didn't seem like an enemy at all.

'Really?' asked Tamara. 'That's pretty cool.'

Yassen nodded.

The rest of the ballet went by in silence – once or twice Tamara considered asking a question, but decided against it. He might just think that she was annoying, and she didn't want that.

Yassen was left slightly vulnerable to his memories as the ballet went on, as he remembered his own performance, at 13 years of age. It had only been a small scale production; the costumes being made by the mothers of the dancers (Yassen blocked out memories of his own mother), and only been performed at the community centre. He remembered breathing deeply backstage, before the curtains opened and the spotlight fell on him. He remembered people congratulating him, smiling warmly at him after the production was finished. He remembered his mother kissing him on the forehead and his dad telling Yassen that he was proud of him.

And as the curtains closed, Yassen felt a little sad, for the first time in a long time. If his parents hadn't died, could he have gone on to be a ballet dancer? To travel the world, performing and living the way he wanted to? Could he have saved lives, by not becoming an assassin, and not killing people, but instead bringing them joy with his dancing?

No, he thought, that life hadn't been given to him. He'd been handed the life he was living now, the life of a contract killer, and no amount of wishing could change that.

x.x.x

After the performance, the night had suddenly grown cold. Yassen gave his jacket to Tamara, and she was too cold to refuse. She could only smile and thank him, and he was pleased by that. He'd pushed away thoughts of ballet and focused on getting Tamara to trust him again.

'That was good, wasn't it?' she asked, bringing up the dreaded subject again.

'Yes,' replied Yassen coldly. Really, the acting was a bit fake, the dancing exaggerated and the feeling of love between Odette and the Prince nonexistent, but the costumes were good, it was well-staged and the orchestra played superbly. But he didn't say any of that, because he didn't want to talk about the ballet. 'That building is Stevenson's company's offices. Do you want to have a look around?' asked Yassen, pointing to a building.

Tamara smiled, feeling a rush of adrenaline. 'Sure.'

They walked around the building, but the whole place was locked up and heavily alarmed.

'We'll have to get in from the top,' said Yassen. They could have broken a window, and gotten in and out before the police got there, but 1. That would have drawn too much attention to them, and 2. Stevenson would almost certainly have guards inside. And whoever kept guards inside a mere office building at night was definitely someone to be suspicious of. Yassen had suggested that they go in through the top because that way they wouldn't be able to get in, and Tamara wouldn't know anything suspicious was going on.

'Alright,' said Tamara. 'I'll climb the building?'

Yassen nodded. 'You go first, I'll follow after.'

Tamara took out the yoyo from her pocket. It was actually a string of super-strong nylon, that could easily hold twice her weight. She threw it up onto a ledge, and immediately the mechanism opened up and attached itself to the ledge. Taking hold of the string, she started to climb.

Yassen heard footsteps in the distance. He took out his gun and looked around. There was nothing for a few minutes, but then a figure loomed ahead of him.

'Ivanovitch! You're dead!' shouted a man dressed in black. Out of the darkness more figures came, obviously in the same league as the first.

Yassen made split second calculations. The people were probably after Dimitri Ivanovitch. He recognised them as a large Asian gang in Sydney, most of them murderers or robbers. Somehow he had made them his enemy and now they were coming for Yassen, thinking he was Ivanovitch. Yassen didn't hesitate to shoot.

The bullets ripped through the air, hitting the man who had called out first, and one by one, each of the figures in the background. They all fell to the ground in a comical but macabre unison. Yassen smiled to himself, content.

He looked around, and, swearing, saw more coming. Quickly he pulled out a second gun, and a third, and emptied them both.

Tamara watched from above. Her partner had just killed around 30 people. She didn't know what to think - whether his thinking was so quick that he'd avoided death or that it was unnecessary.

Then she saw more figures coming towards him that he missed while looking around to check for more.

Yassen snapped his head around to find more approaching him. He took out his gun again and shot at the figures. He swore in Russian. He'd run out of bullets.

The man smiled and took out a gun.

'Don't try anything, or this bullet goes in your head,' he said, pointing it at Yassen's skull. Yassen cursed himself. He couldn't believe he'd run out of bullets. He couldn't go down like this. Not to some second rate gang leader.

There was a loud crack, and Yassen expected to feel his head exploding, but there was nothing. There were more cracks, and all the people surrounding him fell to the ground, lifeless.

Yassen looked around to see what had happened and spotted Tamara on the roof.

'You ran out of bullets?' she shouted incredulously. There was an odd look on her face – like she wanted to smile, but was too worried to.

'Thank you,' he shouted back. He shot a rope attached to his waist onto a rail of the roof, the hook on the end catching the rail perfectly. He started to climb the building to reach Tamara; it took him less than a minute.

'Thank you,' he said again, standing a few feet away from her. He was not sure what to do, whether to bow, or to hug her, or to kneel at her feet. He settled on looking busy with something else, taking more bullets out of his backpack and loading them into his gun.

'No problem,' she said. 'That's what partners are for, aren't they?'

Yassen nodded stiffly.

'Who were they?' asked Tamara, casting her eye to the fallen bodies on the ground.

'They're a gang,' said Yassen, looking down as well. 'Last time I came here for a mission I got involved in a fight with them, as they were aiding the person I was meant to kill,' said Yassen. 'I guess they still hold a grudge,' he said, shrugging.

'Oh,' said Tamara. 'Well it's good to see you're ok,' she said, stepping closer to him. He stood still, not quite sure what to do.

She stood on the tips of her toes and hugged him tightly. Yassen froze. He was not used to physical contact, unless he was fighting someone. Sure, he'd touched Tamara while pretending to be her boyfriend, but that was all fake. This was a genuine hug, from Tamara herself.

Yassen patted her on the back, not sure what to do. He'd never shown any of his real emotions, and especially not in direct actions. He'd never hugged anyone before. He found the new experience quite enlightening. It was nice knowing someone cared about you.

Yassen cursed himself. He would not start to get _attached_ to the girl. Even if he didn't have to end up betraying her, bonds between people are signs of weakness. He worked alone. He didn't need anyone but himself; no one could be trusted but himself.

Something inside argued with him. He did need someone else - he would have died in that lonely alleyway if it had not been for Tamara. Yassen didn't know what to think, for one of the first times in his life.

Yassen realised then that he was starting to succeed in the hardest part of the mission. Tamara trusted him, or at least liked him as a person. That was a good start, if anything.

Tamara finally released him from the hug.

'Thank you, again,' said Yassen.

'You don't need to thank me so many times,' she said. 'It's not as if I didn't get anything out of saving your life.'

Yassen was perplexed by that statement.

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Well, I would have been devastated if you'd have died. You're a good partner,' she said.

Yassen, again, didn't know what to think. It was happening far too many times lately; he reprimanded himself.

Was he to be happy because his plan was working in getting her to trust him, or did he feel guilty for deceiving her?

Nonsense.

Yassen Gregorovich never feels guilty. Or so he told himself. He'd killed many people, his first at nineteen, and many more, especially tonight. If he had any reason to feel guilty, it would be because of that. And he never felt guilty about cutting short people's lives, possibly one of the worst acts a human can commit, in the narrow minded person's eye.

But he knew he wasn't happy. He knew that.

So what was he feeling?

'Dimitri?' asked Tamara. He hadn't answered for a good 2 minutes now.

'Yes. Sorry. Shall we go back to the apartment?' he asked.

Tamara nodded.

'Probably not a good idea to stick around here, more of them might turn up and we'll be in trouble then,' she said. 'Not that we weren't in trouble before,' she added, following him back to the apartment.


End file.
